Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Read Online Free PDF

how much it cost her to do so. “It might be too late by then. I’ve never been good at coming off second-best.”
     

C HAPTER  F OUR
     
    The smack of his fist connecting with her skull reverberated around the cottage. When he’d found the place the previous year, he’d had little idea of how useful it was going to be. The old shepherd’s hut had been added to and modernised over the decades, but, for him, its best feature was a complete absence of neighbours. Only half an hour’s drive from Bradchester, yet surrounded by fields, its isolation was perfect.
    The woman sobbed, huddled on the bed, trying to protect her face. He stopped punching, grabbed her arms, dragged her up.
    “Come to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he crooned. She pulled away and he slapped her face.
    “I want you to dance with me.”
    The first one he’d killed had enticed him with her dance. He’d almost enjoyed how his body felt, swaying in time to the music in her arms. This whore should have done as she was told. He sang along to Bad Moon Rising , knowing the words off by heart. Murmuring against her ear, he held her close.
    “You want to dance now?”
    When she shook her head, he threw her back onto the bed and straddled her, using one hand to slap her face in time with the beat. The other strayed towards his erection.
    Anger erupted. The filthy whore was trying to tempt him. Trying to make him defile his body. He climbed off and dragged her arm until she fell to the floor.
    “Beg. Kneel before me and beg.”
    Her lips moved, but her words were muffled by sobs.
    “What? What did you say? I can’t hear you.” He leaned down to catch the whispered words.
    “Please,” she said again, louder this time. “Please no hurt. No more hit.”
    Tears and blood obscured her features, but he could still see the soul in her eyes.
    “Say it again,” he said.
    “Please, no more hit. Dance, I dance.”
    “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” He reached forward and caressed her battered face. “Now,” he breathed. “Now I’m going to save you. God chose you, did you know that? He chose you to be one of his lambs and you repaid him by allowing filth inside the temple of your body. But don’t worry, I’m here now. I’m here for you.”
    Drawing back his fist, he punched her full in the face, then reached down and lifted her tenderly onto the bed.
    ***
    Paolo sat at his desk, stunned. The identity of the latest victim had taken his breath away. He’d not recognised his missing witness from the bloody mess on Barbara’s autopsy table, so when Dave said the prints were a match for Lisa Boxer, Paolo felt as though he’d failed her all over again. Damn Frank Azzopardi, what was his connection?
    He looked out of his office into the open plan area and stared across at the Perspex board on which the photographs of the two victims were displayed, disgust gagging in his throat.
    His team were waiting for him. Apart from Dave Johnson, he’d known most of them for years. He finished the last of his coffee and went out.
    “Right, everyone, listen up. As Dave has no doubt told you, the victim was Lisë Bojaxhiu, an Albanian working the streets as Lisa Boxer. None other than the missing witness from the Azzopardi fiasco two weeks back.”
    “Still, at least that explains why she didn’t turn up to give evidence,” Dave said before adding something Paolo couldn’t quite catch.
    “Judging by the grin, you must have told yourself one hell of a joke, DS Johnson. You want to share it with the rest of us?”
    Dave flushed. “I don’t think so, sir,” he said, looking around, glancing over at the only female team member. “It wouldn’t be appreciated by everyone here.”
    Detective Sergeant Cathy Connor, Irish temper flaring as usual whenever Dave made one of his comments, glared at him, but before she could speak Paolo stepped in.
    “CC, whatever it is you were going to say, don’t.”
    Cathy’s eyes flashed,